Ad Infinitum

I go here when I’m strapped for cash.

Hamburg for the humbugs?

Be afraid. Be very afraid.

Forgiven but not forgotten.

Three years ago, I could have fooled myself into believing that within me lay the fountain of youth when I was thought to be my younger brother’s younger sister. He is seven years younger than I am.

Like a cruel joke, I was mistaken for his mother barely three years after.

And just yesterday, this promo girl for some children’s product asked if I have kids at home. That’s her way of saying " you look like a mother so I will sell you these things that might interest your kids."

One time my cousin joked that since there seems to be no chance for her little daughter to be the flower girl on my wedding (meaning I’ll never get married anyway), she’ll just reserve the bridesmaid post for me when the little girl grows up and gets married.

All these epiphanies about how old I already am scare me. I do not really worry much about looking old ( but I did when they thought I was my brother’s mother!), and hardly about my single-blessedness. I worry about letting each year pass by without getting anything done — not even the very simple task of reading all the books that I’ve bought. My age has become directly proportional to my laziness. And the only thing I’m good at is to harp on it; just like the way I deal with my weight.

Clearly, I am having the pre-birthday blues which I have every year. Next year, I will just copy this whole piece and post it on this same blog a few days before my birthday.

On a lighter side, I go here (The Guardian called it a decent alternative to Hallmark schmaltz) when I need some dose of funnies. Please do not send me any e-card unless it is from them. I am done with sentimental stuff. Now make me laugh.

Quote of the day:

"Sometimes I’ve been caricatured as this emasculating wife. Do you think anybody could emasculate Barack Obama?"  - Michelle Obama

I got a new haircut today, and I look like John Travolta in Hairspray — only older, uglier and without the bangs.

… and it’s not the hairdresser’s fault.

I don’t know what to do now.

On my way to lunch this afternoon, I was approached by this girl from a TV channel. She asked if I was willing to be interviewed for their New Year’s special.

What should I do, I asked. You only need to answer a few questions, like what books you read last year, she said. But all the books I read last year were English. None was Chinese, I told her. Oh! Have you read Cat in the Bag, then? You can talk about it, she said excitedly. No, I replied. It’s OK. You can just say a few lines of New Year’s wishes, she offered hopefully. Sorry but I am quite shy about being on TV, I said at last.

I wondered later why I didn’t just tell her from the start that I wasn’t going to do it.

And the truthful reason wasn’t so much about my fear of being on TV but more because there’s no way I was going to appear on TV looking like someone who had the mumps and edema twice magnified.Yes, I am vain that way. No, my inferiority complex and low self-esteem work like that.

On a totally unrelated note, I can’t wait for winter to be over because I smell unwashed hair everywhere I go. I’m starting to have breathing problems.

How About a Chandelier to Go With That?

To Push or Not to Push?

Another Way to Say "I Am Environment-Friendly."

How Careful is Careful?

Can I Interest You In a Few Seconds of Clarity?

A Gentle Reminder Gone Risqué!

1. Footless socks

It doesn’t need to be Prada which inspired this interest (but if it’s for free, why not?), though I have serious doubts about finding them even if I wanted to, because they’re sold out everywhere. I wish H&M would produce them. And yes, I am big on socks lately. Don’t ask me why because I have nothing to say except I dont know.

2. The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath by Sylvia Plath (edited by Karen V. Kukil)

I am crazy about Sylvia Plath’s writings — most especially her personal letters and journals — in the same way that she was crazy about death and dying. I think I am too, about dying, sometimes. But that’s beside the point.

3. DVD copy of Chungking Express

I’ve been wanting to see this forever, but it’s also taking me forever to find a copy. I can’t find any here. I think Hong Kong is the place. But my brother wasn’t able to get one, either. Maybe it’s just him and his laziness.

4. D&G’s Light Blue scent

The brother got this for mom last Christmas. I loved it so much I kept making calls home, reminding her that if she didn’t like the scent, she could always have it transported back here. She did — like it I mean.

Update: I just found out that this is the favorite scent of almost everyone I know. Because I don’t like to smell like everyone else, I change my mind about loving it.

5. Wedge boots

Because I like to look tall, and not worry about getting my heels stuck in the escalator, or fear for my ankles (cankles to be honest) when I’m making that mad dash towards the bus.

6. New pair of specs

Sure, I can continue using my age-old Miss Tapia (pun quite intended) glasses till they fall apart because I only wear them at home, and very rarely at that. But as the term "old maid" is meant to be a self-fulfilling prophecy, the most I can do — and hope — is to not look the part.

7. Magic frock

I need it to do super, super wonders for a non-super size number. In short, I must fit into a size 4 without any unsightly bulge, and be able to breathe properly. Vanity sizing it is!

OMG, I almost died laughing at this hilarious signboard. Good thing, it’s now changed to The Dongda Proctology Hospital. Read the related article, which is about Beijing’s preparation and cleanup drive (on public manners like not spitting in public places and proper English translation of signs and billboards, among others) for the coming Olympics, in full here.

If you’re too lazy, here’s another one:

"Some translations are trickier, like describing pullet, which is a hen less than a year old but appears on some menus as Sexually Inexperienced Chicken."

Now try to make sense out of this. It almost sounds like a sexual harassment invitation; or an act of indecency that you’re supposed to like because it’s a "pleasant surprise."

A better translation of the sign above might be, "Find something new and be pleasantly surprised." (Doug Kanter for The New York Times)

I want to volunteer and be an English police. I need more laughter and amusement in my otherwise monotonous daily life.

I want this Anya Hindmarch bag, before everyone in the street starts carrying one.

It’s stylish, not so expensive, and most importantly, eco-friendly.

I want it. I want it. I want it.

When they first made a limited edition of this,mainly to raise environmental awareness, they didn’t expect the overwhelming response that it got. Hindmarch says of the tote-craze, "It’s gone ballistic."

It has. The bags are now sold out in the UK. There are no plans of producing more of these bags as of now.

Good news is they will launch it in the US and some parts of South East Asia ( yay, Shanghai is included) middle of this year. Stocks are up for grabs by way of pre-order due to the limited availability.

I already signed up in their website to receive updates. I hope I stand a chance. My dreams for the next two months will all be about Anya and her plastic bag-NOT! I hope I’m not going to be waiting for Godot.

Melanie Griffith must stop wearing things that reveal her legs in such sad, sorry state.

                                   She’s barely 50.

I am scared. Must take care of the knees too, from this day on.

I am feeling confused right now because I am not getting my magazine subscriptions the way I expected. What I’m saying is one day I get Time Europe, the next it’s Time International and then some days it’s Time Asia. This is really not much of a problem except that I usually ( almost always to be precise) miss the special issues.

I love special issues. I usually find myself buying magazines that I don’t read whenever there’s SPECIAL ISSUE largely printed on the cover. It’s a weakness or sickness, whatever you want to call it. But I digress.

Foreign magazine subscription here is hard to come by, and they charge really ridiculous,over the top fees that would make you just forget it. So imagine my delight a year back, when I saw an ad in an expat forum offering reasonably low subscription rates. I jumped at it of course, with no second thoughts. 

Now there’s a price to pay for things you get for less, so aside from having to guess which issue I’m getting each time, I also have to deal with their questionable provenance. One time, I flipped through a page and something that looked like coffee stain met my disgust. And I’m not even going to talk in detail about this other time when I came across something mucous-like that got dried. Ick!

It looks like my "dealer" obtains my magazines from airports, coffee shops and hotels. And I mean the "take away in stealth, while no one’s looking" kind of obtainment. I am quite sure because in one of them, there was a sticker of an airline’s name on it.

Those are some reasons to justify why my reading backlog looks this way.

But what I really want to say is, to my understanding friends whose e-mails I have not yet answered, I have not forgotten and will not ignore them. Even these magazines have not taken precedence over your mails.

I read a lot of online news and blogs ( which translate to only one word: gossip) though. But that is another story.

Quote of the day:

"If you don’t wear lipstick, I can’t talk to you. You need to have lips. They are very important for getting men."

                                                         - Isabella Blow,1958-2007